Six Minutes

by Petronella McGovern

  Tara switched back to her phone and clicked on the photos. Which one should she post? She’d taken about forty in the Parkers’ house last night. Images of Bella’s bedroom, her cuddly toys on the bed, her doll’s house and her fairies. She’d snuck into Lexie and Marty’s bedroom and snapped a few shots in there. The master bedroom was larger than Tara’s lounge room and kitchen put together. And the ensuite was stunning—those aqua tiles and the dual sinks. Of course, she’d seen all that at the open house but now it was furnished with Lexie’s stuff—no Ikea bookcases for her. Marty was obviously earning the big bucks and Lexie got to spend it.

  In the Parkers’ lounge room, Tara had studied the photos of Marty—he was even better-looking when he was younger. She’d taken pictures of the family photos in frames: ones with the three of them, then the extended family, the teenage daughter, the grandfather and the aunt. More pics of Bella by herself on the wall. Some photos of Bella’s drawings and paintings, which were everywhere. Tara had considered pocketing a few but that was probably going too far. It had been too dark to take photos of the tree outside, where Bella had apparently fallen and broken her wrist.

  She’d been hoping to see Marty at the house—to give him her sympathy and her promise to do whatever she could to help find Bella. But he must have stayed out searching all night.

  Swiping through the images, Tara decided on a photo of Bella with her father. An attractive duo. That should get more than six comments. She’d save the others. Might even give the Canberra Times a call and see if they wanted to buy some pics. It would mean more exposure. And surely that could only lead to one thing—finding Bella. And making this village safe again. Two hours later, Tara had showered, fed Daisy, and put her down again. She had texted Julia and was planning to go down to playgroup in another hour or so. First she wanted to scroll through Facebook and see what people were saying. Was anyone blaming her? Lexie shouldn’t have gone up to the shop and left them in that position, especially while Tara was breastfeeding—she couldn’t be expected to look after extra kids.

  The knock at the front door startled her. Had the detective read her thoughts about sending Lexie up to the shop for the Tim Tams? Was he here to interrogate her?

  Her mother-in-law stood on the front porch, straight from a morning horseride, wearing jeans and a black fleecy jacket. Pam’s healthy outdoor glow made Tara feel even more tired.

  ‘Hi, Pam.’

  Tara leant forward for a quick kiss on the cheek but her mother-in-law crushed her into a hug.

  ‘I wanted to see how you’re doing,’ Pam whispered. ‘This whole business with your playgroup is terrible. We rode the horses around the back of the ridge this morning hoping to find Bella.’

  Tara didn’t have a chance to respond before Zoe barrelled out from the lounge room and threw herself into Pam’s arms.

  ‘Gramma, Gramma.’

  ‘Hello, darling, have you had lunch yet? Shall we go and make some sandwiches? I’ve brought fresh bread and your favourite cheese.’

  Pam pulled off her riding boots and strode through to the kitchen.

  Tara surveyed the toys strewn across the carpet in the lounge room and quickly shoved them into a pile next to the couch.

  Over lunch, Pam asked how they were all holding up.

  ‘It’s so awful,’ Tara told her. ‘I feel sick to the stomach all the time. I can’t eat. Imagine if it were …’

  She couldn’t finish the sentence as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘I know, I know.’ Pam nodded. ‘Everyone was so quiet when we were on the horses. Josh texted me last night about the search. That’s what inspired me. The community spirit is beautiful. Everyone wants to find Bella.’

  ‘Bella?’ Zoe looked up from her food. ‘Where Bella?’

  ‘Oh, darling, Bella’s safe wherever she is,’ Pam said, snuggling the little girl onto her lap. ‘Now, Zoe, Mummy has had a rough night. Why don’t we let her go back to sleep and we can play a game until Daisy wakes up from her nap.’

  Tara was sure that she’d be asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But she could hear Pam singing and chatting to Zoe. Nice for Pam to have time to play with her. So unfair. All I have time for is fucking domestic jobs. Next time, Pam can vacuum the house while I play games with the kids.

  As her eyelids closed, she had a thought. Lexie could easily have snuck Bella out when she was going to or from the shop. But why would Lexie do that? Maybe her life wasn’t so perfect after all.

  19

  CARUSO

  CARUSO STOOD AT THE EDGE OF THE MELEE AND WATCHED AS THE cameras zoomed in on Mrs Parker’s tear-stained face. With her husband’s arm around her shoulders, the woman had only uttered a few words: ‘Please help. Help find Bella.’ The reporters yelled questions at the poor couple—‘Has Bella ever wandered away before? Do you think she’s scared? Could someone you know have taken her?’—but Milson wrapped it up with his repeated appeal to ‘check all areas around your home where a child might hide’.

  Some detectives believed they could pick the perp straight away. Caruso wasn’t in that camp, but he knew something was off kilter here. The husband and wife almost seemed afraid of each other. As for guilt, well, the mother kept saying: ‘It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to the shop.’ But, equally, those other four women and their kids were at fault. While they all seemed distraught, only two of them—Julia the pregnant organiser and Imogen who’d rung the police—actually blamed themselves. Were the others—Tara the flirty redhead and Mel the earth mother—working on self-protection? He’d already heard Tara point the finger: ‘Lexie must have left the gate open when she went to the shop.’

  They’d got the background checks on the playgroup mums and their husbands. A parking ticket here, a speeding fine there, nothing out of the ordinary. He’d shown a picture of a maroon Honda Jazz, like Josh’s, to the elderly neighbour. Darryl Lawson had peered closely at the image, taking his glasses on and off, then insisted the car he saw was red. And that red hatchback was hard to check. No make, no rego number. They were doing some grunt work on it. Looking up all red hatchbacks registered in Merrigang and the southern suburbs of Canberra. Any stolen red hatchbacks. Any links to known paedophiles.

  The superintendent wasn’t happy about the community volunteers turning up for the search last night. Neither was Caruso. Particularly when it involved a few of the husbands—Lucas and Josh, in particular. Caruso knew of cases where suspects had volunteered for a search. Made it easier for them to find out what the police knew, and to possibly divert the searchers. No doubt, it gave the bastards a thrill to be among it all, knowing they were responsible for bringing out all the police resources.

  With the AMBER Alert, the comms centre had received two hundred calls from the public and yet not one lead. How could a child simply disappear? The SAR team had clambered through stormwater channels and opened up the drains within a five-kilometre radius.

  Nothing.

  Vanished.

  And it wasn’t like that terrible case where the mother and stepfather had been the last ones to see the girl alive the night before she was reported missing. Turned out the two of them had killed her a week previously. No, Caruso had four adult witnesses who were with Bella in that room only moments before. He and Suze had been to Tara Murphy’s house yesterday, Imogen Lawrence’s this morning and now they were on the way to Mel Wainwright’s. Every available police officer was either dealing with the ongoing protests at Parliament House (protestors had camped overnight near the Aboriginal Tent Embassy) or searching for Bella.

  Standing on Mel Wainwright’s front deck, Caruso assessed the small house while they waited: built in the 1970s, minimally renovated, cheap to rent or buy, with a light blue people mover in the driveway. A large car for only one kid but she looked after other people’s children too. Ferrying them around presumably. Losing a child in her care wouldn’t bode well for future work. Had her income stream disappeared along with Bella? Mel was a single mum—presuma
bly she relied on the money from her work. Was the father involved and paying child support?

  ‘Suze, any info on the child’s father?’ he whispered.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Mel opened the door wearing a white apron over faded jeans, her wavy hair pulled back in an elastic band, pink ugg boots on her feet. She shook their hands—hers still wet from whatever task they’d interrupted. His early impression of ‘earth mother’ had been spot on.

  ‘Sorry, I’m in the middle of baking a quiche,’ Mel explained. ‘I’ve been preparing a few things to bring down for the searchers. Help to keep their strength up.’

  ‘I hope it’s okay to drop in unannounced,’ Caruso said as he stepped through the door. ‘We thought it would be easier than asking you to come to the playgroup. We’re talking to all the mums again today.’

  People chatted more freely on their home turf. It also gave him an indication of their background. Mel was clearly a homemaker. In the lounge room, two old couches had been re-covered in a soft black material and positioned so that people could speak to each other rather than angled towards a giant flat screen, as in so many other houses. In fact, there was no television to be seen. One corner was set up with a play mat and toys. A huge abstract painting took pride of place on the wall—as Caruso stared at it, the swirls became recognisable as children hugging a taller mother figure.

  ‘Have you had lunch yet?’ Mel asked as they sat down on the couch. ‘Can I get you a sandwich or some homemade soup?’

  ‘We’re good, thanks,’ Suze answered for both of them.

  ‘Cup of tea or coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  Mel really did want to keep the masses fed and watered. Or was she looking for a distraction? She sat on the armrest of the other couch for a moment, then stood up again, then perched on the edge again. Jumpy. But, then, all the mothers were agitated.

  ‘Before we talk about yesterday, can you tell us about Sammy’s father?’ Suze asked. ‘Does he live around here? Does he ever come to playgroup?’

  Mel leant back against the couch and laughed, flipping her thick dark hair. That smile and the voluptuous shape underneath the white apron—Caruso guessed she’d broken a few hearts.

  ‘Absolutely not. He’s never even seen Sammy.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘I think he’s in India. That’s where I met him.’

  ‘Right—well, if we can just have his name, then we can check on him.’

  ‘Seriously, he’s not interested in Sammy or me. He made that clear four years ago.’

  ‘A name, please,’ Suze repeated. ‘Then we can cross him off our list.’

  Mel sighed and folded her arms over her breasts.

  They waited silently.

  ‘You won’t speak to him, will you?’ Mel asked finally. ‘I don’t want him getting in contact with us.’

  ‘We’ll just check the system and his current location.’

  ‘Look, Ben’s a drug addict. He went to India to find himself and found lots of drugs instead. His name is Ben Anderson.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Caruso suddenly noticed the quietness of the house. A soft classical tune floated down the hallway. ‘Is your son actually here? He’s so quiet.’

  ‘Sammy is drawing. We were practising his letters before.’

  ‘And you do some childcare too, don’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘I look after Morgan every Tuesday and Wednesday, and Zoe on a casual basis.’

  ‘Julia’s daughter and Tara’s—is that right?’ Caruso matched the kids up with their mothers.

  ‘Yes. I love kids. I’m planning to do a childcare certificate when I can.’

  Now that she was relaxed, Caruso could ask the questions that he’d really come for.

  ‘Did Mrs Parker often go up to the shop and leave Bella in your care?’

  ‘This was only the second time.’

  ‘I see.’ Interesting. Tara had said Lexie left Bella all the time.

  ‘Do you go up to the shop? Do the other mothers?’

  ‘I don’t normally need to—Sammy’s a good boy, I can take him with me anywhere. But Tara is always popping up to the shop or making doctors’ appointments. Julia and Imogen do sometimes … it’s not a big deal.’

  Except when your child goes missing.

  ‘I know we’ve asked you already, but did you see anything out of the ordinary?’

  ‘Hold on a minute, I’ll get you some biscuits. I made them yesterday before …’

  Mel didn’t finish her sentence as she walked through the door to the kitchen. The smell of baking wafting in the air made Caruso’s stomach gurgle. He couldn’t remember if he’d had more than coffee in the last six hours. There had been sandwiches at two in the morning. He’d smelt the egg-and-bacon rolls of some SES blokes at about six, but he hadn’t eaten anything then. Suze stood up and walked to the window, checking the backyard.

  ‘Here you go.’

  Mel offered the plate of biscuits to Caruso. Her hand shook and three biscuits tumbled onto his crotch. Mel bent to pick them up, then stopped, obviously realising where they’d fallen.

  ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Caruso placed each one back on the plate and tried to brush off the crumbs. ‘It’s a stressful time for everyone. So, did you see anything yesterday?’ he repeated. ‘It may not even seem important, but any tiny detail can help.’

  She frowned. ‘Just Josh,’ she said. ‘But I told you that already.’

  ‘Has he ever been to playgroup before?’

  ‘No, but I know him because he picks Zoe up from day care when she comes here.’

  Caruso glanced around the room again. It was nicely set up for kids to play. His sister had managed to avoid the whole day care discussion thanks to his mum’s insistence that she would look after her grandchildren. Until Dad’s cancer diagnosis. At least they were all at school now, so they’d gone into after-school care a few months ago. The four of them were loving it and said it was ‘heaps better than being at home with Nonna’. They were under strict instructions not to share that sentiment with their grandmother.

  ‘Are you registered with family day care?’ Suze asked.

  ‘No, I’m just helping friends at the moment, but I hope to build it up.’ Mel followed Suze’s gaze to the swings outside. ‘I haven’t been in Canberra that long so I’m still settling in really.’ The woman had an easy manner about her, she would be accepted wherever she went.

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘We were in Byron Bay before. The winter here was a shock. Sammy had never seen frost. He kept trying to lick it.’

  The Canberra winter wasn’t for the faint-hearted, not compared to places like Sydney and Byron Bay. Caruso was used to it, though, and missed the crisp, sunny days when he was away. Up north, winter passed by without even announcing itself.

  ‘How did you end up in Merrigang?’ he asked.

  ‘I was very lucky.’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t use that word today. A friend I know once lived down here and told me about the place. It’s a gorgeous village and such nice people.’

  Caruso’s phone pinged and a message flashed onto the screen: We’ve got her on CCTV footage. He nodded at Suze and rose.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘We have to go.’

  They hurried towards the front door. Just before he stepped outside, he threw his last question over his shoulder.

  ‘Ms Wainwright, how do you think Bella got out of the playgroup?’

  The earth mother was behind him, so their eyes didn’t meet. She could say what she thought without looking at him.

  ‘I think … her mother didn’t lock the gate properly.’

  20

  LEXIE

  IMOGEN HAD STAYED BY MY SIDE ALL MORNING AND FORCED ME TO EAT a sandwich. She was the one who had convinced me to show my face to the cameras.

  ‘People want to help you,’ she said. ‘Make it easier for them.
Let them know how much you love Bella.’

  Following Imogen’s advice, I had written down what I planned to say. The piece of paper quivered in my hands. Bella loves fairies and her favourite colour is purple. She loves to explore. She wants to be Dora the Explorer and discover the world. Maybe she’s exploring right now, in someone’s backyard or their garage or cubbyhouse. Please check your backyards and help us find our little explorer. We need to get Bella home as soon as we can. We love you, Bella.

  My legs trembling, holding on to Marty for support, I walked towards the media pack. Twenty journalists or so with TV cameras and radio microphones, big zoom lenses and tiny phones to record our voices. As we approached them, they turned towards us with blank faces, sympathetic but expectant. They’d already filmed the fence of playgroup where people had placed flowers and teddy bears, balloons and dolls. An explosion of colour. In one moment, I was grateful for this community expression of concern, and in the next, horrified. They think she’s dead.

  Superintendent Milson was speaking, telling them where and when Bella was last seen. He touched my elbow and motioned that it was my turn to talk. But when the cameras focused on Marty and me, my mouth went dry. Swallowing, trying to make my tongue work, I opened my lips but the words froze.

  In that moment, I realised the world was watching.

  The only face I could see beyond the cameras was Imogen’s. She nodded encouragingly and gave a waving motion telling me to speak. I looked down at the piece of paper. It fluttered in my hands: a squiggle of letters that made no sense.

  ‘Please … help …’ I stuttered. ‘Help find Bella.’

  Next to me, Marty stood stiffly. I waited but he said nothing.

  After the media conference, Imogen took me home. For once I didn’t mind leaving, getting away from the cameras, from people watching me, lowering their voices around me, from Sergeant Caruso asking questions that I didn’t want to answer.

  The house was so quiet and still without Bella’s constant chattering and giggling and dancing pirouettes. Why couldn’t I hear the Wiggles singing on TV or the cute giggles of Peppa Pig or even the annoying Bananas in Pyjamas? I really wanted a glass of wine. Or a bottle. Any amount that would numb my heart. I sat down at the kitchen bench, and Imogen made me a cup of tea.